


Sketches

by maeveth



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Character Study, M/M, Oneshot, eruri - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-30
Updated: 2014-09-30
Packaged: 2018-02-19 07:59:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2380799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maeveth/pseuds/maeveth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erwin Smith is something of an artist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sketches

**Author's Note:**

> Writer's bug jogged by masksarehot, dedicated to SadisticSaint.

Erwin Smith is something of an artist.

The precise lines and careful sketches of long-distance scouting formations are calming to him; he draws all his maps himself, entirely by hand, filling in landmarks from memory and creating things that are less practical navigation tools and more works of art that just happen to double as practical navigation tools. Less obvious, however, are the sketchbooks that litter the surfaces of his office; they look like any other book, until you open them. Inside, done in pencil and ink, is an entire history of Erwin Smith’s life, sketched out by the man himself.

It starts out simple; child’s drawings, of the sun and sky over the walls, of a house and a stick-figure family. Mama, Papa, Erwin. As the drawings progress they gain in style and substance; stick figures give way to cartoonish caricatures of the students at school, then semi-realistic portraits of his fellow members of his training cadet squad. Mike features in a number of these portraits, the detail growing more precise with every attempt.

Half of one book is devoted almost entirely to Marie. Laughing, crying, glaring at him for something stupid he did…the final picture is ineffably sad, the face he remembers her making when he turned his back on her, chose titans instead of her. Every now and again he flips to this page, reminding himself just what he walked away from when he chose his current path.

The books that follow are full of drawings of people and places. There are sketches and portraits of Survey Corps members, and sweeping landscapes; nothing but trees and rolling hills and clouds as far as the eye can see. These are the pictures he turns to when he feels the need to remind himself just why he fights as hard as he does, why he devotes his life to destroying the titans and freeing humanity from the prison it finds itself in. 

As the books progress, one face begins to dominate. At first it’s sketchy; a quick scribble, primarily notable for the fierce fire that burns in the figure’s eyes even in such a slapdash piece of work. As time goes on, though, the portraits grow more and more accurate. Pitch-black hair that falls just so, narrow brows, sharp eyes, features that are almost delicate despite the sheer power those eyes evidence. The level of detail, of care in each drawing, is a sure and certain indicator of just how important this person happens to be; there are details that only someone who held the person dear would ever discern. 

“Are you drawing me again?”

Erwin looks up from his latest sketchbook at Levi, who’s leaning against the desk, eyeing him. “You fucking draw me all the time. I thought we were supposed to be keeping this shit under wraps and you’re plastering my face all over everything.”

“I can’t help it.” Erwin rubs the eraser over a spot, creating a subtle highlight along the curve of his latest portrait’s cheek. “I draw whatever happens to be uppermost in my mind at the time, and you do tend to dominate most of my non-work-related thoughts.”

“Fucking weirdo.” Levi shakes his head, flicking some hair out of his eyes with an irritated gesture. “I guess it’s better than writing shitty love poetry.”

“Curses, you’ve foiled my next artistic endeavor.” Erwin chuckles very softly, finishing his sketch before putting his pencil down and turning the book so Levi can see the final result. It’s a picture that very few people would ever believe; a portrait of Levi in a rare moment of relaxation, with a smile curving his lips and a light in his eyes. 

“Fuck, show that to people and they’ll think I’ve gone soft.” Levi snorts softly, leaning over to press his lips to Erwin’s. “Is that really how you see me?”

Erwin returns the kiss and smiles, very faintly. “Of course it is. I’ve never seen anything as attractive as your smile, in those rare moments when you relax enough to show it.”

“Bullshit.” Levi rolls his eyes expressively, then walks around to Erwin’s side of the desk. “You know, instead of spending all your time on pictures, you could be with the real thing.” There’s a twinkle in the grey eyes, at total odds with his usual bored-slash-grouchy expression. 

At that Erwin laughs, closing the book, setting it aside, and standing to gather Levi into his arms. “Pictures are no substitute for the real thing, and we both know it.”

They depart the office for more private environs, leaving behind yet another chapter in the illustrated life of Erwin Smith – a large sketchbook entitled, very simply, “Levi”.


End file.
